Mistakes and Consequences
by Yarrie - Water Master
Summary: Sequel to Pure Coincidence, continuing the trend of getting crazy genius hackers into trouble of their own making (most of the time). Izumi has always had horrible luck. Kouji has always had horrible timing. Together, they have a little bit of both, and a little bit of neither. Rated for serious violence and adult themes. Kouzumi, some Jerato
1. Chapter 1

Another story, though it's technically a continuation. But don't worry. I'm getting around to all of my stories in turn. They will be completed.

In terms of the Pure Coincidence timeline, this falls QUITE SOME TIME after the end and the epilogue.

I will probably be editing that story as this one progresses. Reading Pure Coincidence first is advised, though not STRICTLY necessary. (Then again, nothing in the world of fanfiction is strictly necessary.)

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><p>Chapter 1: The worst timing in the world<p>

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><p>Izumi woke up.<p>

Izumi woke up at five o'clock.

Izumi very unhappily woke up at five o'clock.

Izumi very unhappily woke up at five o'clock..._PM_. The sun was just barely hovering over the horizon, shielded from view by a lone tree in the middle of the park. The rude neighbor upstairs was stomping on the ceiling in a vicious attempt to get rid of the paint that had gotten stuck there last night.

How did she know?

Less than twenty hours ago, that same neighbor had woken up most of the building's occupants by going door to door asking people to help him fix the damage. At this point, Izumi was tempted to run upstairs and teach him a lesson about common courtesy. There was the only thing she had missed about living with Kouji in his apartment – the wary respect that everyone had for his privacy. It had been easy enough to notice in Las Vegas, but in San José it was at least three times worse. She had enjoyed the convenience of always being left alone, but...

But in the end, she had been too independent to be completely comfortable under his wing. It had been surprisingly easy to convince Kouji to let her buy her own apartment. The three years of cat-and-mouse just to get her to agree to work with him must have worn him down. Or maybe he figured that it was always nice to have a backup place to crash.

Either way, she got her apartment, along with another host of other problems, including Kouji himself – although she had to take some of the blame for that. After all, she was the one who gave him a copy of the key.

She glanced at the clock and blinked. Five? Really?

"Why the hell did you let me sleep so long?" she mumbled accusingly, rubbing her eyes. Of course, no one replied.

It was a common theme of late. Kouji had been disappearing and reappearing at odd intervals for the past six months.

Suddenly cold, Izumi slipped out of the thin, rumpled comforter and stretched to her full height, wincing slightly when something popped in her back. Maybe she would take Kouji up on his offer to go on vacation for a few weeks. Then again, maybe not. He would probably bring her to Paris. She didn't want to go there until the paranoia about nuclear terrorism died down, mostly because barging into the middle of a rebellion was one of the easier ways to get shot. Kouji would probably find some kind of justification for it, though. He was good at that.

Izumi mused affectionately that her partner-in-crime hadn't gotten much better in the self-preservation department over the years. Really, how did he manage to survive this long without trying to survive at all?

Izumi didn't have the faintest clue.

Then again…_she_ was a former government worker with a false identity that earned most of her money as a hacker in one of the most tightly regulated countries in the world. It was just as strange and miraculous that she had survived.

Before that fateful week in Las Vegas, she would've never expected her life to turn out like this.

Izumi pursed her lips and wondered if Kouji ever felt the same way. Then she instantly banished the speculation from her mind. It didn't matter anymore. She was stuck with him, and he was stuck with her. She couldn't care less about _how_ they ended up in their current situation. There were more important things to worry about, like the ever-looming double threats of anarchy on one side and martial law on the other.

Just the other day, the powers above sentenced Las Vegas to lockdown because of the threat of radio bombs, following the example of New York, Mexico City, and Quebec. Every day, she half-expected to find San José on that list.

No one was surprised by the sudden outbreak of violence, except perhaps the politicians. No one really cared, either, except the media.

Izumi certainly didn't. Even when she had been working for the government, she had never been the most loyal employee. She had _tried_, of course, but...well, it was easier said than done.

She stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and swung her arms around lazily in a fumbling attempt to turn the lights off without opening her eyes. Since it was almost dinnertime, she made her way to the refrigerator and instantly noticed the pale yellow sticky note on the door.

"_Check the news_?" She slapped her forehead and groaned. "What did you do this time?"

Izumi pried the colorful strip away from the cool surface of the refrigerator and sat down at the table, where the newspaper was. Kouji had left her a capped and insulated cup of coffee on the table. It wasn't the brand that she liked, but she still appreciated the gesture…not that she would ever admit it to him.

The coffee was still warm. He hadn't been gone for long.

She picked up the neatly refolded newspaper and scanned it with a faint sense of dread. The headlines were nothing extraordinary: protests, revolts, mobs, and a random farmer from Greater East Asia who had broken the world record for longest mustache. Izumi was only surprised by the fact that there were still farmers in Greater East Asia.

Ah. On the last page of the newspaper, she saw an article about the bombing of an airbase near the house of legislature. Apparently, the damage had been severe enough to force the entire government to evacuate for a day or so. She mused that the world had to be seriously screwed up if this kind of thing didn't even make the front page anymore.

It probably wasn't something Kouji had done personally, knowing how much he detested leading military operations, but he must have been ecstatic. By his standards, anyway. Speaking of Kouji, where was he?

As if on cue, she picked up the coffee cup and blinked at the post-it note attached to its side.

_Four,_

_It looks like I have to be out of the country for just a while longer. Be a little more careful than usual - I don't want to find a nuclear wasteland when I come back, understand? And knowing your luck, you'd find a way._

_Please don't tear this up. I was just kidding._

_In all seriousness, though, there's something going on in the Quebec center, and I need to fix it as soon as possible. You might want to keep a close eye on our little friends in San José._

_Yours truly,_

_Thirteen_

_P.S. Check my mail, while you're at it. Expecting a drop-off today, and obviously I won't be in the country to receive it._

Deeply unsurprised, Izumi turned the note over and held back a childish snicker at the imprinted pen marks. Kouji wrote with such a heavy hand. He'd go through dozens of pens out of pure carelessness if she left him to his own devices. Admittedly, he could also spend entire months without touching a single piece of paper, so there wasn't much incentive for him to learn how to use writing utensils properly.

She dropped the note back on the coffee table and sighed.

He was within his rights, she supposed, if he wanted to vanish to another country for a while. They had agreed to be partners, but the terms of that agreement had been murky and ambiguous at best. And as for their _personal_ relationship...well, she didn't want to think about that. The point was that she didn't have the slightest idea about what he was up to in Quebec, though she was almost positive that it was something she wouldn't approve of, and she had no clue how to approach him to ask. Well, if she even had a right to ask. He had given her free rein in San José; did that mean he expected the same in return?

Just thinking about it gave her a headache. She had the annoying feeling that Kouji actually needed her to be confused for his plans to work.

She glanced outside - it was already getting dark, and she still needed to check the mailbox. She stood up tiredly and left the apartment to hail a taxi. It didn't take long to get to Kouji's apartment. That was by design. Her partner had been completely fine with her leaving – well, not completely, but at least he didn't try to bring her back by force – as long as she stayed close enough to get to his apartment within ten minutes. Naturally, she chose a little place exactly _eleven_ minutes away.

Even though she hadn't lived there for longer than three weeks, Kouji's building was an oddly nostalgic sight.

She walked up the stairs, all three flights, and remembered yet another reason she liked her apartment better. No fucking stairs. Not a single one.

The fourth floor mailboxes were situated right next to Kouji's apartment, which was also the door closest to the stairs, conveniently enough. There was a small brown package in Kouji's box that was addressed to _Mr. and Mrs. Minamoto._ Rolling her eyes, she carefully looked it over – the return address was some place in Italy, which didn't even exist anymore as of two weeks ago - and started to open the package. Then she froze in place at the sound of footsteps behind her. A soft breeze hit the back of her neck.

A voice she didn't recognize warned, "Don't move."

Shit, shit, shit.

It didn't take a genius to realize that she had taken for granted that Kouji's apartment would be safe.

Kouji was right. Her luck was_ awful._


	2. Chapter 2

Introducing...a deuteragonist! That's right! You'll get to see into Kouji's crazy little head in this sequel!

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><p>Chapter 2: Did you know<p>

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><p>"Did you know, Kouji," Tomoki called, tossing the clear, dome-shaped crystal in the air, "that forty people are killed each year by paperweights?"<p>

"You just made that up," he said, walking into the office that Tomoki was casually sitting in and eyeing the windows.

"...yes, I did," Tomoki admitted. "That doesn't mean it's not true, though."

Kouji snorted. "If it is, I'll pay for your lunch today."

"Oh ho." The younger man grinned and got out his phone. "Well, let's see then."

Kouji rolled his eyes slightly but didn't deter him. A comfortable, easy silence fell over the room, until - "Did you know, Tomorrow," Kouji said, turning around and smirking at him, "that I've gotten a certificate of superior marksmanship from the old CIA before?"

"Are you making that up?" Tomoki asked, with a small frown.

Without a word, he touched his gun to the window, between the plastic pieces of the horizontal blinds. Two seconds later, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet connected with a satellite dish two buildings away. Kouji didn't even flinch as tiny shards of glass were thrown from the hole. He dropped the gun onto the windowsill and made his way back out.

Tomoki sighed, not really expecting anything else as a reply, and closed the door behind them. "Should we lock it again?" he asked, motioning towards the lockpick box on the ground next to him.

"Probably," Kouji said. "But I'm feeling lazy, and we need to pitch the lockpicks anyway. I've been meaning to buy a new set."

"Fine by me. It's not my ass on the line."

"Yes it is," Kouji said, looking at him oddly as they walked down the stairs.

"I have less ass on the line than I usually do. It still counts."

Kouji threw him an accusatory look. "Who's been teaching you all these witticisms, Tomorrow?"

"It's diffusion. I've been spending way too much time with you." He cracked a smile.

Kouji shook his head. "Well, you should stop. It's bothering me."

"Yes, father," Tomoki deadpanned.

"Shut the hell up."

"But father, all I've ever done was try to make you proud - " he was grinning widely.

"Oh, god, who's been feeding you television soaps?"

"It's part of a healthy diet, Kouji. That's what the commercials say, anyways."

"Stop it," he said, actually grinning now.

Tomoki looked faintly relieved. "So you _do_ know how to smile still."

The grin faded, more out of self-consciousness than anything else. "Tomorrow, I'm not depressed. It's just that the circumstances that force us to meet up are rarely good news for me. You should worry about yourself, not me."

"I'm not the one flying to Quebec."

"No," Kouji said wryly, "but you're not the one flying to Quebec with the Yakuza on his side either."

"I'll never understand how you managed that." Tomoki muttered, shaking his head.

"And I'll never understand how you manage to spend hours at a time listening to the stupidest people in the country without batting an eyelash," Kouji said. "We're even."

"That's easy," his exasperated second-in-command muttered. "I get lots of practice when you're around."

Kouji looked at him.

"As a bystander, of course." Tomoki added cheerfully. "You specifically target the stupid people all the time. That's how you make money."

"Nice save," Kouji snorted.

"Why, thank you."

They reached the bottom step and Kouji casually popped out the earphone that had been in his left ear. "Police are here. Probably found the guy we left at the front desk."

"Where are you going after this?" Tomoki asked.

"Private jet. You?"

"Lunch. And I couldn't find the statistics on how many people are killed by paperweights each year, by the way."

Kouji snorted. "No, I don't think many studies are done on that subject." He tossed the earphones into the nearest sewer opening.

"There should be - I mean come _on_." He looked indignant.

"You just want your free lunch," Kouji accused, but he was amused, not annoyed. He and Tomoki really were like siblings that way. He didn't like to think about that. Neither of them had the safest jobs in the world - and he had already lost one brother.

"No, I just want to be _right_," Tomoki corrected.

"Heh. I have about an hour left before I have to leave."

Tomoki brightened. "Yes! More opportunities to get you to pay for my lunch!"

"Good luck with that," Kouji deadpanned.

"Thank you," Tomoki said, with perfect seriousness. "Do you actually mind if I drag you to lunch with me? Not to pay for me, just to eat. Like old times."

Kouji snorted. "Was already planning on it."

A quiet smile curled on Tomoki's face. "...yeah, thanks."

"But nothing spicy."

The smile instantly vanished. "Oh, screw you, Kouji Minamoto," he said. "Or is it Minamoto Kouji? I forget which order you use nowadays."

"I don't use either," Kouji said simply. "I'm just Thirteen, usually."

A sly grin. "Speaking of Thirteen...how's Four?"

He snorted. "Should I be grateful that you referred to her as Four instead of your usual Mrs. Minamoto?"

"I can always switch back if you like," Tomoki said.

"No." He ran his finger absently over the keychain around his neck but forced himself to stop. It was a nervous habit that revealed entirely too much about him. He couldn't afford something like that.

Honestly, he should have left it with Izumi...but then she would have been terrified that he was saying good-bye, or something like that. With good reason, too. He had grown so used to the weight of a brass die around his neck that he instantly woke up when people tried to tamper with it. He wouldn't take it off unless he genuinely thought that he wasn't going to make it. It was a sobering thought, especially since he didn't think that day was too far off.

Tomoki watched him with a knowing grin on his face.

Kouji sighed. "Shut up, Tomo."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"And what was I thinking?" he challenged.

"One," Kouji held up a finger, "that I'm completely whipped. Two," another finger joined the first, "that it's actually kind of cute. Three," and yet another to make a trio, "that you don't understand why I'm leaving her behind."

Tomoki's jaw hung down slightly. "Uh...okay. Two out of three."

"Which two?" Kouji asked.

"The first and last." He grinned slightly. "It's not kind of cute, it's _completely_ cute. Almost sickeningly cute."

"...this from someone who has clearly been watching too many soaps?"

"Well," Tomoki amended, "Cute for _you_."

Kouji waited.

Tomoki sighed. "...yeah," he murmured, "why _are_ you leaving her behind?"

"Because it's fucking Quebec," Kouji said.

"And this is fucking San Jose, pardon my French," Tomoki retorted.

He shrugged. "San Jose is her oyster. Comparatively safer."

"You have the fucking Yakuza to protect you in Quebec."

"Weren't you the one arguing that it was still dangerous?"

He looked at Kouji and sighed. "...if she's around, she'll force you to be safer," he said simply.

Kouji snorted. "Oh, really? Why's that, enlighten me."

"Because you won't do crazy things that put you in danger, because they'll put her in danger too." Tomoki said patiently.

"...You _do_ realize I'm the one who basically killed her previous self and forced her to live a life of crime," Kouji pointed out finally. "And let's not forget that I gave her a bomb, and basically said _have at it_, without telling her how big the bomb was, or how to get to safety after that."

"But that was before. Now you're _whipped_," Tomoki said.

Kouji rolled his eyes skyward. "I am not whipped."

"You got her _coffee_ before you left. You're whipped. Dominatrix-whipped. Ringmaster-whipped. Ice-cream-sundae-whipped."

"Peppermint mocha whipped?" Kouji suggested dryly.

"Exactly!" A pause. "Did you seriously get her a peppermint mocha? I might have to take back the whole whipped thing." His nose was wrinkled with disgust.

"No, I didn't," Kouji said, "She drinks black coffee and only black coffee."

Tomoki grinned at him.

"...I may be slightly whipped, yes," Kouji sighed. "And I think you're the only person I know who actively hates peppermint mocha."

"I don't hate peppermint mocha."

"Really."

"That's right. I hate _you_. My feelings for you are on a very different level from peppermint mocha."

"By which you mean," Kouji snorted, "the way you feel about peppermint mocha goes beyond hate."

Tomoki nodded vigorously. "Not much beyond, but yes." He held his hand parallel with the ground and lifted it up as high as he could. "Like this much. Just about as much as you're whipped, actually."

"You're comparing my - how the hell do you say it - my whipped-ness to your feelings for peppermint mocha?" Kouji asked, disbelievingly.

"Well, yes. Both go beyond how much hate we're capable of," Tomoki said gaily.

"...that's...not true," Kouji said finally.

Tomoki frowned. "Kouji?"

"I'm very, very capable of hate." He shrugged. "Never mind. Where did you want to go for lunch?"

"Kouji."

He turned around. "Yes, Tomorrow," he said, with forced patience.

"Is there a...is there another reason you wanted to go to Quebec?"

"I don't _want_ to go to Quebec."

"Look, Kouji, I'm not...stop playing word games with me." Tomoki sighed heavily. "Are you trying to kill yourself again?"

"No, Tomoki, I'm not trying to kill myself," he said flatly, with a touch of exasperation, "I'm kind of trying to do the opposite."

"...you haven't called me by my full name since I was twelve years old," Tomoki said, looking little short of terrified.

He sighed. "Can't believe you actually keep track."

Tomoki glared at him. "Kouji. _Are you trying to kill yourself_?" he repeated. "Because if you are then forget this whole Quebec thing - Quebec can wait. I can drive you home and you can just...I don't know, get into a hacking war with Izumi or something_." _His voice was soft.

"I do not hack as a fucking coping mechanism, I hack because I enjoy it."

"The best coping mechanisms _are_ things that you enjoy," Tomoki said, quietly. Then, even more quietly, "If you can't talk to me as Tomoki, talk to me as Tomorrow."

He sighed. "I'm going to Quebec because that's the only damn place I can meet with a government official on neutral territory, without the threat of getting shot on the street. That's _it."_

"...okay," Tomoki said.

"You don't believe me," Kouji murmured.

"Well, you're a compulsive liar."

"And I'm never going to convince you otherwise." He sighed. "How the hell did we get on this topic?"

"Oh," Tomoki replied quietly, "It's just...we were talking about hate. And there's nobody you hate more than yourself." He shrugged.

He grimaced. "...is there a mute button on you?"

"Also it's hard to tell when you're being serious about the fact that the world would be better off without people like you," Tomoki added.

"...why are you blaming me for telling it like it is?"

"See? Like that!" Tomoki glared at him.

Kouji sighed. "I'm a conman and a thief and, as my lovely partner-in-crime never fails to remind me, I take advantage of perfectly nice young girls. Not exactly the best guy in the world."

Tomoki looked stricken.

"I'm not going to apologize for that, Tomorrow," Kouji said.

"I know. _I know_. But if you don't quite remember, I wouldn't be _alive_ if it weren't for you," Tomoki retorted.

"...I do remember."

"Right. I guess you would." Tomoki rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

He knew exactly why Tomoki was asking, of course. "We have thirty minutes until I have to go. Lunch?"

"...yeah, okay."

"Where?"

"Anywhere, you pick." Tomoki stuffed his hands into his pants and looked down at the sidewalk.

He sighed. "You _could_ perhaps act a little more enthusiastic, since this _was_ your idea."

"Excuse me for finding it hard to be enthusiastic about a NON-SPICY restaurant." Tomoki glared at him.

"It doesn't have to be an entire restaurant full of non-spicy food," Kouji pointed out. "Just at least one good dish."

"There is no such thing as a good dish without spice," Tomoki said solemnly.

"I've _seen_ you wolf down plain ramen without the spicy soup, Tomorrow."

"Ramen is not a dish, ramen is exercise for the stomach," Tomoki replied.

"It is not. Ramen doesn't really have any protein, and the stomach only breaks down protein."

"...wait, really?"

"You're thinking about the small intestine," Kouji said, snickering slightly.

"...but 'exercise for the small intestine' doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Well, carry on then. There aren't that many people who'd correct you for saying 'exercise for the stomach.'"

"Yeah," Tomoki said, "only smart-asses."

"You really _are_ getting pretty good with sarcasm," Kouji told him. "I can only imagine you had a good teacher."

Tomoki snorted and punched him lightly. "Also, while we're on the topic of ramen - "

"We aren't anymore," Kouji corrected.

Tomoki talked right over him, " - how about ramen for lunch?"

"We're in America," Kouji said, rolling his eyes. "Average ramen at best."

"Ramen is like sex, it's still pretty good even when it's bad," Tomoki announced.

"Did you steal that from an advertisement?"

"Of course I did. An advertisement from pizza, actually, but I think it applies more to ramen than pizza."

Kouji grinned slightly. "Alright. We'll go get your ramen."

"Excellent. And while we're on the topic of random topic changes - "

"Tomo," Kouji said, crinkling his eyes with laughter, "you really never change."

"Yes, yes, I know," Tomoki said cheerfully. "But like I was saying, while we're on the topic, _did_ you actually get a certificate of superior marksmanship from the CIA?"

"Does it matter?"

Tomoki sighed. "Guess not. But you didn't answer the question."

"Well, why do you want to know?"

Tomoki looked at him as if he were stupid. "Because that would be _wicked_. I mean, hello."

Kouji snorted. "Right. I guess that's true."

"...So?"

"No, I've never gotten an official certificate of superior marksmanship from the CIA."

"An 'official' one?" Tomoki raised his eyebrow. "What about unofficial?"

"The CIA doesn't give unofficial certificates."

Tomoki sighed. "You're playing with me."

"Yes. It's easy to do. Work on that."

Tomoki looked at him pointedly.

"What?" Kouji asked, amused.

"So what did the CIA give you?"

Kouji sighed. "Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because you've always said the best lies have a grain of truth in them," Tomoki said.

His lips twitched upwards, almost nostalgically. It was strange to think that Tomorrow was actually growing up, not just growing old but growing _up_, but Kouji was reminded of it every time he saw the younger man. "It wasn't the CIA, or the old CIA," he said finally. "It was a special unit of the FBI that was appointed to train select operatives for...what did they call it..._potential war situations_. They were really paranoid back then."

"More like they actually had the money back then," Tomoki said.

"That too. Good job, by the way." His smirk was broad and playful.

"Thank you." He looked up from his phone. "How old were you?"

"Twenty or so?"

"...try again." He tossed the phone back into his bag. "The FBI lost all of its funding two years before your twentieth birthday. There's no way they could have done any of your special training."

Kouji actually threw his head back and laughed.

Tomoki just snorted. "I'm never going to get a proper answer out of you, am I?" he murmured.

Kouji stopped laughing and he ruffled the other man's hair like he would a child's. "Be glad," he said simply.

Tomoki looked back at him and tilted his head. "...Yeah. That's what I tell myself."

Kouji shrugged slightly. "Maybe I should stop lying so much. I think I'm making _myself_ confused. Don't want to be the boy who cried wolf."

"No," Tomoki said, looking at him with a half-admiring, half-sad look. "You'd be the wolf who cried wolf."

"Why would the wolf cry wolf?" Kouji asked, scoffing.

"To eat all the townspeople who come to help the boy," Tomoki said.

There was a long moment of silence. Then, gently, Kouji said, "That would be one stupid wolf."

Tomoki raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"The best way to eat the townspeople would be to eat the boy first and wait for the townspeople to come looking for him. Less risky that way."

"Oh," Tomoki said, at a loss for words.

"Plus, this way the wolf wouldn't have to learn how to talk." Kouji added, as an afterthought.

Tomoki rolled his eyes skyward and groaned out loud.


End file.
